


Not So Secret After All

by Kaicielia



Series: Ailyn Lavellan [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Daydreaming, F/M, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-03 15:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4106203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaicielia/pseuds/Kaicielia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Studying etiquette and religion and history and heraldry are not what Ailyn expected to be doing when she joined the Inquisition, but she finds that it holds its own charm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Secret After All

Ailyn Lavellan put a hand over her mouth to cover a yawn. Josephine had taken it upon herself to further the elvhen’s education, specifically concerning court politics and the God which had supposedly sent her to save Thedas, but the reading had proven dry and dull beyond reason. She had more than once been caught fast asleep in this very chair, and many more times she had woken here on her own, and her companions had taken to teasing her about that fact.

First the people called Ailyn, ‘The Herald of Andraste.’ Andraste, spiritual bride of The Maker, a Shemlen woman worshipped from one coast to the other. Then they named her Inquisitor, leader of a divine pursuit for a God she did not worship. She understood the importance of closing the breaches into the Fade, accepted her role without hesitation, but the weight seemed to get heavier with each passing day. Her mind ached for frivolity.

It was well known that Andraste had a mortal husband, for whom she bore two daughters, but Ailyn had recently found mention of another lover – Shartan, leader of the elvhen slaves that joined Andraste’s rebellion against the Tevinter Imperium.

Shemlen, especially those rich and powerful enough for court politics, viewed such couplings as scandal. Elvhen were little better than slaves, after all. Mentions of Shartan in Chantry texts had been removed and any Chantry art depicting Elvhen had been destroyed or altered. The Chant of Light, representative of the religion to all of its adherents, had even been altered to remove the canticle describing Shartan’s contribution to Andraste’s cause.

Elvhen, particularly the Dalish, rejected such pairings. Shemlen kingdoms rose and fell quickly, after all, and it was the duty of each Elvhen to keep the blood pure for the time when they would return to glory. Children of such pairings appeared wholly Shem, retaining none of their Elvhen parent’s traits, and for many this was proof of the sacrilege.

But someone had written a book that was not destroyed and Ailyn had managed to get her hands on it. It was not a history, although it included a short history in preface, rather it was a work of fiction based off of the stories that had not yet been lost. The writing style reminded her of the novel she had gifted Cassandra and she found herself sneaking off to read it as the rest of the hold slept.

A flush stained her face as she read of an intimate encounter between the Shemlen and Elvhen. Her eyes darted around the room, assuring that she remained alone, before she returned to the book and continued. Inevitably her mind drifted to Cullen and the flame that erupted whenever she was close to the man. She had always shaken any improper thoughts from her mind, convinced that any such relationship was impossible, but this book had opened up a world that she found herself visiting more and more often.

She pictured Cullen’s face; his eyes were like warm honey and the curl in his lip, accentuated by the scar that split it, always made her wonder what he found so amusing. His voice boomed when he commanded his troops or addressed a crowd. Low and close, leaning over a map discussing strategy or a chessboard trading pleasantries, it sent shivers down her spine.

“There you are.” Dorian’s voice shocked her from her reverie. Ailyn slammed the book shut and stood, causing it to fall to the ground. When she leaned to pick it up it slid away from her, pulled by one of Dorian’s spells. “Reading and still awake,” he noted. “What could possibly accomplish that, and have you pink to the tips of your ears?”

“It’s a book about Andraste,” Ailyn answered, stepping closer to him and reaching to take the book from his hand.

He turned to keep it just out of her reach and opened to the first page.

“Please Dorian,” Ailyn pleaded, dropping her head in defeat. “It was just… something to read. Something other than all that.” She motioned to a pile of books that stood, nearly undisturbed, next to the chair.

Dorian began mouthing the words as he read them, ignoring her distraction, and a smile slowly spread across his face. He looked up to Ailyn a moment later. “Andraste had an elven lover,” he said. “I bet that puts a thorn in the Chantry’s side.” He turned the page and read further. “And this isn’t even the true story, just someone’s flight of fancy? What interest does it hold for you?”

“It’s just,” she responded, searching her mind for an explanation he would believe. “Something fun. Something not etiquette and heraldry and dry history.”

“But an elf and a human. Isn’t that….” His voice hinted sarcasm and Ailyn realized that he had guessed her secret. The red in her face deepened. “Or is there some human that you have your eyes on?” Dorian continued when he saw the realization dawn on her. “Say a dashing Commander with a striking resemblance to a lion.”

Ailyn sat back in the chair and crossed her arms, embarrassed and defiant and intensely interested in her friend’s opinion of her situation.

“My dear,” he began, handing the book back to her. “Do you really not know that everyone knows? Walk a little more slowly through the hall; listen to the gossip of the nobles. Your little crush is all the rage.”

“Well, at least it’s no longer your ulterior motives,” Ailyn reminded him, pointing out that noble gossip was not exactly trustworthy. “I don’t even know how to….”

Ailyn took Dorian’s hand when he held it out, rose to stand next to him and rested her head against his arm. “Well, you really should figure it out,” he told her. “Varric’s giving you pretty good odds of conquering him before you do Corypheus.”

“What?” Ailyn squeaked, stepping away and slapping him feebly.

“Well, why do you think I was looking for you?” Dorian asked in a laugh as he ducked away. “I need some advice. Should I put sovereigns on it, or….”

Ailyn covered her face with both hands as the blush returned to her features. “I’m never going to be able to show my face anywhere ever again.”

“Oh nonsense,” Dorian protested. “That makes me no money.”

“I’m sorry to say my primary concern right now, Dorian,” Ailyn squared her shoulders and backed slowly to the stairwell that descended to the main floor, “is not the weight of your coin purse.” She turned and started down.

“That’s as it should be,” Dorian told her as he followed. “If it was then the world would be left with me to save it. Dreadful idea, that. Fade rifts would still be popping up all over Thedas, demons and undead flooding the cities.” He stopped for a second as they walked through the door at the bottom of the stairwell. “But the troops’ uniforms would look better.”

Ailyn chuckled and shook her head as she continued on.

“But that doesn’t mean you should be denied companionship.” Dorian hurried when he realized Ailyn had quickened her steps. “You deserve to be happy, and what use is saving the world if there’s no joy to be had in it?”

Ailyn realized then how much time had passed while she read. She had intended on taking a break in the early morning, before anyone was awake to interrupt her, but now the hold was buzzing with activity. Her small, lithe form weaved through smoothly while Dorian found himself dodging and apologizing to everyone he crossed paths with.

“And frankly, he deserves some happiness as well.” He finished as they came upon the door to Ailyn’s private quarters.

Ailyn turned when they reached her door and gave her friend a saccharine smile. “And what are the odds my advance is turned down?”

A look of confusion crossed Dorian’s features. “Turned down?”

“Yes,” Ailyn elaborated. “When I throw myself at our illustrious Commander and am left humiliated in the eyes of our gossiping nobles and soldiers, then how much money will you make?”

Dorian stared dumbly for several long seconds before he responded. “I don’t believe that scenario has even been considered,” he admitted. “I find it hard to believe Cullen would have such a cruel streak.”

Ailyn sniffed loudly and again shook her head. “Doesn’t have to be cruel. You’d turn me down.”

“Well that’s different,” he insisted. “You’re not my type.”

“And the fact I’m female makes me Cullen’s type?” She crossed her arms. “I think you and Bull should get together. Sure, he’s Qunari and you’re Tevinter. Your people have been at war with each other for so long no one remembers how to live in peace. But he’s male and that’s all that matters, right?”

It was Dorian’s turn to blush and Ailyn smiled in victory. “Female is a good start,” he explained, giving a small smile that indicated he was hiding some other secret. “There are other factors in my belief that he would not, in fact, turn you down.”

Ailyn’s smile turned to a grimace of confusion. “Such as…” she prompted.

Dorian considered the challenge. “His mood,” he began. “Whenever you are around, there is a smile on his face.”

“That’s because there’s always a smile on his face,” Ailyn countered. “I’ve never seen him without one.”

Dorian’s eyes turned incredulous. He stuttered on a reply, laughter concealing the words that tried to escape, before giving up. The smile on his face widened. “Then maybe it’s your backside,” he offered. “Even I find myself drawn to it. Irresistible, really. Nearly as nice as my own.” At that he turned on his heel, exaggerating the sway of his hips as he walked away. 

Ailyn watched him depart and decided that it must be some joke. One of Sera’s ‘making you people’ pranks. 

Unless, of course, anyone actually expected her to believe that Cullen, a soldier from a well-respected Shemlen family and former Templar, had any interest at all in the Dalish rogue. The thought brought a slight smile to her face before she turned to the door and walked through it.

******

Ailyn readied herself and rushed to the courtyard, intent on getting some practice in before war room meetings and further lessons in court politics demanded her time. She was walking past the tavern, aiming for the corner she usually caught Cassandra practicing in, when a voice stopped her.

“Inquisitor.” The greeting came from behind; the smooth, low voice causing a slight shudder to move through her. Ailyn tamed her lovesick grin before turning.

“Commander,” she answered, stopping for a moment to allow Cullen to catch up.

“I was surprised to miss your practice this morning,” he told her, quickly glancing over her. “Are you well?” 

Ailyn clasped her hands behind her back as they turned to walk together. “I’m fine.” They walked by soldiers preparing for their daily training. “I had some reading to catch up on for Josephine; thought I’d see if morning made it any easier to get through.”

A low rumble of laughter rolled out from him. “Did you learn anything new?”

“Oh,” Ailyn explained, “I learn something new every day. Just don’t know how useful any of it is.”

“That’s The Game for you.” He stopped and turned to watch the soldiers as they began their practice and Ailyn stopped next to him. “I never was a fan of it myself, but I got to watch others play. There is definitely benefit if you can manage it.”

Ailyn shifted from one foot to the other. Orlesian Court Politics was one game she wished she could ignore, but the Inquisition needed allies to succeed and impressing moneyed nobles was the most expedient way to acquire them.

“No worries,” Cullen said to her when he noted her discomfort. “Josephine is a competent diplomat and her family has a long history. I’m sure her instruction is more than adequate.”

“She’s not the one I’m worried about.” Ailyn gave him a self-depreciating grin. “I have trouble making it though one page. It’s so boring.”

Cullen laughed aloud this time, causing Ailyn to turn an inquisitive look on him. “I was never a very good student,” he explained. “I did well enough, but my heart was in the battle. I wanted to be a soldier; begged the Templars for the opportunity to join.”

“It seems to have worked out.”

“Well, yes.” His face took on a contemplative look. “Things don’t always turn out as you expect.” They stood for several silent minutes before he took a step toward the soldiers. “Put your back into it,” he shouted. He turned and gave Ailyn and apologetic nod before walking away. “What are you doing? Get up! Corypheus and his men aren’t going to wait for you to get up if you fall on the field.”

Ailyn watched him walk away, replaying a scene from the book with her and Cullen cast as the main characters. She shook the image from her mind before pulling her blades and approaching a training dummy.

She moved through her forms quickly, trying to make up for the time she’d lost reading. She had been trained to use a bow as a child, the weapon being better suited to hunting, but had taken to using dual blades when she joined the Inquisition. She surprised even herself with how quickly she learned to use the weapons and was soon fighting as if she’d been born with them in hand. Heat began to rush through her body, cooled by the sweat that penetrated her clothing. Cassandra joined in, as did The Iron Bull soon after. The three had fought in battle often enough that they appeared to be working in concert, as if they danced to a tune no one else could hear.

Bull fought with power, setting his feet wide and solid and wielding a massive two-handed warhammer. His swings were slow, but the reach of the weapon kept all but the most skilled fighters far from his body. Cassandra’s fighting had more thought behind it. She taunted her enemy, encouraging mistakes through rage and confusion, holding her shield high when on the defense but quick enough to strike at the slightest opening. Ailyn raced around the two, relying on speed and agility to keep out of range of their weapons and weaving her own twin blades through a dizzying display. Her strikes were not as powerful as Bull’s nor as refined as Cassandra’s but speed resulted in a higher count.

Ailyn was circling Bull, intending to try a new move to trip him up and land him on his back, but she was stopped short by his elbow rising and meeting her face with a sickening crack. Her world spun, tears sprung to her eyes and stars danced in her vision.

“Are you all right?” Cassandra was asking when Ailyn returned to herself. She saw clouds and was blinded when they passed beyond the sun. It was then she realized she was the one lying on the ground.

“Ugh,” she groaned, probing her tender nose with gentle fingers. She tried to breathe through the mess but choked on the blood that filled her throat. Cassandra helped her to sit up and a field medic kneeled on her other side.

The medic held her head still in his hands and looked her over quickly. He made a face and took her nose in one hand. “Ready?” he asked. When Ailyn nodded, he set her broken nose quickly and unceremoniously. When she called out and gave him an accusing look, he smiled back. “You’ll be fine.” He then rose and walked off.

“You took that hit pretty good, Boss,” Bull offered as Ailyn regained her feet. “Might need to use my elbows more, take care of fast little pests like you.”

Ailyn glared at him. She looked to the sleeve she used to soak up the blood that flowed and smiled. “Sure, Bull,” she said to him. “We’ll see if you can manage such a lucky hit again, but not today.” Her eyes wandered to the tunic she wore, splattered with bright red. Blood began to drip from her soaked sleeve, further soiling the garment. “I think I need to clean up.”

“Lucky?” His slightly concerned look turned to amusement at the jibe. “If it was just luck, there’s no danger in continuing the fight now, right?” He stood a little taller and crossed his arms in front of him confidently. “Naw, you’re scared I’ll beat you again.”

Ailyn knew he was appealing to her competitive spirit and the anticipation caused her smile to widen. Her eyes were still watering and her face was swollen, but the injury was a superficial one. She was just as interested in practicing her new move as Bull was in continuing the sparring match, and she had an urge to vindicate herself. “Scared? Of you?” She shrugged off Cassandra’s steadying hand and spit a mouthful of blood onto the ground. “Bring it on, big man.”

“Is this really necessary?” Cassandra asked as the two squared off. She never was one to participate in such tests of supremacy, but had long ago accepted that few shared her disinterest. “You should clean up, as you said, and prepare for the afternoon’s meetings.”

“What meetings do I have other than the War Room?” Ailyn asked without taking her eyes off Bull.

“I do not know,” Cassandra answered. “I thought you would have that information, but I’m sure Josephine has a record of it somewhere if you cannot recall.”

“Well then,” Ailyn dodged a slow swing from the Qunari. “Do you think you could go ask her about that for me?”

“I…” Cassandra began, annoyed at being treated like a servant. She huffed loudly and stalked off.

“I think you have upset our Seeker,” Bull told Ailyn as they continued to circle each other. “Is that such a wise thing to do?”

“Am I hearing this correctly? Mr. ‘Ooh, let’s go kill a dragon’ questioning my wisdom?”

“What’s wrong with killing dragons?” He reversed the grip he had on the hammer, hefting it from one side to the other. “Dragons threaten people, we’re supposed to be helping people, so we kill the dragons. What’s so diff….” He took a step forward as Ailyn spun around behind him, swinging his warhammer in a wide arc to keep her out of reach.

Ailyn anticipated the move, dodging at the last minute and spinning back the other way after the weapon had passed. She moved in, convinced that even Bull could not stop the momentum of the heavy hammer, and scored two quick hits. The thin bloody lines marked where an enemy would receive deep gashes, but even those would barely slow an enemy with the size and training of her friend.

Bull didn’t even try to stop the hammer, instead continuing to swing it in a complete circle. Ailyn noticed the move too late to dodge out of its reach, so she ducked under the haft as it passed over her head. She rolled sideways when Bull lifted his knee for another strike to the face and rose to stand several feet from him, crouching into a defensive stance.

“Almost got you again, Boss,” Bull said to her. His voice was low and dangerous, but his face was painted in an expression of amusement. “Maybe you should take that break and clean up before I really hurt you.”

Ailyn snorted a laugh. “Almost doesn’t count.” She moved in before Bull had a chance to ready a swing, feinted to one side and then reversed direction and spun behind him again. She crouched and pushed into the back of his knee but even dedicating all her weight to the move failed to topple him. She barely managed to roll away before he spun to confront her.

They continued to spar, holding little back. Soon Bull had a few paper-thin cuts running rivulets of blood down his back and Ailyn sported several new bruises. Their ferocity and back-and-forth banter attracted the attention of many soldiers and they were soon surrounded by a circle of eyes and cheers.

Ailyn went for another opening in the Qunari’s defense and again spun around him. The opening was a feint, however, and Bull’s elbow again shot back. This time she was able to hop out of reach. 

“Can’t fool me twice,” She taunted as Bull turned to face her. The crowd went silent and anticipation pricked Ailyn’s senses.

“Really?” Bull took a step forward and swung his hammer in front of him. 

Ailyn dodged the swing easily but was tripped up by someone standing behind her. She lost her balance and found herself again lying on her back on the ground. Before she could jump back up a heavy hoof rested on her chest and the warhammer thumped as it was dropped inches from her head. Three forms were silhouetted against the sky above her.

“You have no meetings today,” Cassandra said to her. “But I imagine you already knew that when you sent me off.”

“I suppose that’s possible,” Ailyn answered, exhaustion and the hoof on her chest causing her to struggle for breath.

“Perhaps we should cancel the meeting in the War Room,” Cullen suggested, laughter edging his words. “You don’t look like you’re up for much.”

Cassandra held a hand out and Bull removed his hoof from Ailyn’s chest. “I’m up for anything,” Ailyn argued as she took Cassandra’s hand and returned to her feet. The movement caused her head to spin and she stumbled a step before righting herself.

“I think I’d feel better if a medic saw to you first.” Cullen told her.

“A medic just saw me,” Ailyn pointed out. “He said I was fine.”

“Even so.” Cullen looked pointedly to the troops that continued to look on, then to Ailyn’s bloodied tunic. “It may be advisable, just to be sure.”

Ailyn sighed deeply. She turned toward the medical tent that had been situated in the courtyard; they still needed to set up a proper facility; and began walking slowly. The others followed close by.

“Harding’s men have finished scouting Crestwood,” Cullen informed them as they walked. “They’re having some issue with undead walking out of the lake and would appreciate any aid the Inquisition can offer.”

“Undead?” Cassandra repeated the word, a slight quiver in her voice. “Great. Another problem to deal with.”

“Does that mean you would like to join me, Cass?” Ailyn asked, looking over her shoulder at the woman. “I can leave all the really smelly corpses for you, if you’d like.”

“No thank you,” the woman answered, no hint of humor in her voice. “Besides, I am awaiting information about the missing seekers. Perhaps Blackwall would like to accompany you.”

Ailyn shrugged her shoulders. Blackwall was a great guy, sure, but he was so stiff, as if every word he uttered and every move he made was first analyzed for optimal outcome. She briefly wondered what pranks she and Sera could play against the man to loosen him up.

“Oh my,” Dorian’s voice called from close by. Ailyn shot him a look threatening against further comment but he ignored her. “I knew there was a chance I was wrong, but….”

“Shut up, Dorian,” She growled at him.

He continued to walk toward the group. “Commander,” he turned to face Cullen as he approached, “Leliana has garnered information I believe you will find quite interesting. She’s waiting for you in her tower.”

“Of course,” Cullen responded. “See you in the War Room,” he said to Ailyn, giving her a warm smile before turning. Ailyn watched as he made his way up the stairs.

“He does cut a nice form, doesn’t he?” Dorian asked, nudging Ailyn and distracting her from the view. She turned to see three sets of eyes watching her and set her jaw.

“I hadn’t noticed,” she answered, turning to the medic who’d seen to her earlier and accepting the potion he handed her. She glared at him until he was able to tame the knowing grin on his face, but it soon returned as her companions teased her.

“I don’t know,” Bull responded. “He’s too comfortable in his position. I like being in charge and he’d end up giving orders. Wouldn’t last long.”

“And then there’s the issue of all the talk,” Cassandra added, taking the opportunity to get back at Ailyn for sending her on a useless mission. “I mean, the nobles are bad enough, but at least they remain in their protected areas, behind city walls. The soldiers are out on the field, often fighting side-by-side with us. Could you imagine what they would think?”

“Oh yes,” Dorian agreed. “And all the pointing and the staring.” He motioned to a group of soldiers walking by and waved them over. “You there, tell me, if you found that your Commander was fooling around with someone how would it affect morale?” Looks of shock came over their faces and all eyes flitted to Ailyn for a moment. The men stuttered a few words before Dorian waved them away. “That’s what I thought.”

“Fine,” Ailyn spat as she walked away. “You all have your fun. None of you are coming to Crestwood with me.”

“Aw,” Dorian’s voice called to her back, against a backdrop of laughter from the other two. “But I was so looking forward to the stench of the walking dead. Promise I get to go with next time?”

Ailyn made a rude gesture to him as she continued to walk away.

*****


End file.
